What Is It?
by Laree England
Summary: Merlin and Arthur return to Ealdor, and Arthur can't help but notice how much Merlin hugs the people there. And he can't help but wonder... Why doesn't Merlin ever hug him? Merlin and Arthur friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**If you're anything like I am, you hate the fact that Merlin and Arthur only hugged once in the entirety of Merlin. I felt that something needed to be done about this. Thus, this story was born!**

**Disclaimer: ... SHE DID IT! Wait, it's not that kind of disclaimer? Oops. I don't own Merlin.**

**I'm sorry, I get bored with disclaimers...**

**_IMPORTANT! This is slightly AU where Will survived, and Merlin and Arthur return to Ealdor years later to say hello again. Arthur, of course, came with his manservant. Yeah..._**

Arthur wore a contemplative expression as he looked out the window of Hunith's humble home, watching his manservant interact with his best friend. Arthur swore that if Merlin would smile any longer, or any wider, he would break his face. Subconsciously, he had been tallying the amount of times Merlin embraced Will. The number was getting surprisingly high. He had never thought it would be possible for one person to hug someone so often, especially when that person was Merlin.

In the years Arthur had known Merlin, it was rare, if not nonexistent, for Merlin to initiate any sort of physical contact with him, or even for Arthur to see Merlin touch anyone else. Arthur would often reach out to touch Merlin's arm or shoulder, and Merlin would never recoil, but for Merlin himself to start the contact... That really had never happened. And to stand here now, watching Merlin giving away so many touches to the people in his village, even after the time for reuniting embraces had passed, it sort of... kind of... hurt him.

Arthur knew that he was a complete girl for having those thoughts, but at the same time, he could not deny that they were there. He had to wonder what he had done to make Merlin never reach out to him like that. Was it his status above him? Arthur soon cancelled that out as an explanation; Merlin had never let the concept of statuses get in the way of anything else in their lives. Knowing this, however, only left one option available: somehow, Arthur was the one at fault.

Arthur felt a presence join him by his side. Using his peripherals (he couldn't bring himself to look away as Merlin tugged Will into another hold by his shoulders), he noted that it was Hunith, a basket balanced on her hip.

"He's quite the hugger, isn't he?" Merlin's mother said fondly, at ease in the prince's presence. She laughed a little to herself, a soft sound that reminded Arthur of the sound of a drop of water breaking the surface of a lake. "He lives off of touch. It's like it's as vital as breathing to him. From the way I know Merlin adores you, I bet you can't keep him from clinging on you," she said with a sigh, a tinge of what Arthur could only recognize as envy in her voice; envy for the embraces she had missed out on while Merlin was away, living out his destiny. "Oh, he would probably kill me for saying that," she murmured affectionately, seeming to not be bothered by what she had just revealed to Arthur.

Arthur's eyes finally broke from their gaze through the window as Merlin released Will, jabbering happily about something Arthur couldn't hear. Hunith was smiling out at her boy, but with Arthur's silence she looked over to him, and her expression faded away as she saw the look on Arthur's face. Her weight shifted, a thin line appearing between her brows.

"Does he hug you?" she said quietly after a moment, as if she were asking a five year old Arthur if he was okay after scraping his knees. There was such an aura of a mother around her that Arthur couldn't help but feel a stab of his own envy cut through his ribcage. He longed to have had a childhood with a woman such as her mentoring him. Merlin was lucky.

The silence answered Hunith's question. Arthur felt like he was under Gaius's inspection, Arthur about to ask what was wrong with him, and what the cure was.

Hunith seemed to catch herself, looking down at her basket. "I am sorry for assuming, Arthur. I should have known, a prince such as yourself couldn't show such affections towards your servant." At the mention of her son she looked out to him, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to follow her gaze. "I just thought... The way he talks about you in his letters, looks at you, I thought that you would have already suffocated from him."

Arthur shook his head slightly, still looking down. His blond brows pulled lower over his eyes, and his leg bounced slightly as his shoulder leaned against the wall.

"I don't know what I did to..." was all he was able to vocalize, but from the tone in his voice, Hunith understood what he would have finished with had he been able to.

She thought in silence for a moment, enough time for Arthur's eyes to drift back upwards. Merlin was knelt on the ground, Will's hand resting on his shoulder as he stood behind him, a little brown-haired girl standing before him. Merlin was grinning widely, speaking quickly, reaching out and holding her shoulders, his eyes wandering over her form. Through the window, Arthur was able to catch muffled "Look at you!"s and "You've gotten so big!"s as more children skipped forwards, pulling at him from all directions. They all seemed to love him, to have missed him. Arthur felt a little guilty and selfish for keeping Merlin away from them, all to himself... And for never fully appreciating that fact.

"Have you done anything to make him think it isn't okay to touch you?" Hunith asked, making Arthur surface back to his conversation with her.

Arthur began to shake his head, then stopped mid-movement. "I don't... think so, I mean, I don't think I have."

"Arthur, have you ever—" she swallowed, as if it pained her, and also made her fearful, to ask, "—hit him?"

Arthur thought of all the times he had. But those were... Friendly slaps, horseplay. Nothing serious, right?

"No," he decided. "Nothing more than, just, horseplay."

Hunith seemed to actually sigh with relief, which just made Arthur's wound tear a bit more. Did he really seem like the kind of boy who would hit his servant? Hit _Merlin_?

"I am sorry, I just wanted to check..."

"Hunith," Arthur said with a gravely voice, standing straight and putting a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye. "I promise you, I would never do anything to hurt Merlin."

Hunith seemed to have already moved on, so easy to trust. "Is that how you touch him?"

Arthur was momentarily lost. "Hm?"

Hunith inclined her head at Arthur's hand on her shoulder. "That. Is that how you touch my boy?"

Arthur lifted his hand, bringing it back to himself, looking at it. "I guess?"

"With more affection, I'm assuming," she thought aloud. "Because you're closer, more trusting, to him than me." Hunith nodded, a ghost of a smile lighting her lips as she seemed to think of something else, but her expression resumed its seriousness as her hand pressed to her lips in concentrated thought. "Then I can't think of why..."

The door to her home opened, Merlin's laugh filling the small space. Arthur looked over Hunith's shoulder to his servant, who was grinning over his own shoulder back at Will, who followed close behind. Arthur could feel his cheeks heating a bit—both out of embarrassment as his girlish talk with Merlin's mother, and anger at himself for even being insecure about such a thing to begin with—and he took a step away from Hunith. Hunith gave him a nod of farewell, taking herself and her basket outside, but not before Merlin touched her forearm lightly to stall her for a moment, pressing his lips to her temple before letting her go, continuing to walk with Will on his tail. The movement seemed as fluid and easy as walking to Merlin. Arthur was a little awestruck at Merlin's sudden show of grace, the way he knew how to move around people. The moment was cut off by Merlin knocking his shoulder into a wall, however, which Merlin and Will just laughed off, their arms simultaneously going up and about each other's shoulders, as if Merlin running into things was a signal for that.

And Arthur stood alone, completely unnoticed.

Arthur turned sharply away from the scene as Merlin and Will went into the next room, his arms crossed, trying to figure out what in the world was wrong with him. After he was done with his heavy breathing and mentally scream-scolding himself, and he was finally able to think rationally, it still took him a minute or two to realize what it was, exactly. He had only let the thought form in concept, pushing it away before he could think of it in words, because as soon as he would do that, that would mean that he had admitted the embarrassing truth to himself.

As an only child—and a royal only child, at that—Arthur had never been very apt at sharing things. Despite the fact he was able to be selfless in times of need: taking care of his people, directing his knights, giving himself up in mind, body, and soul to his battles and duties, at Arthur's core, when it came to things that didn't fall under the category of things expected of him as the prince of Camelot, he was selfish. It wasn't something to be proud of, not by a long shot, but yet it was true. And he realized, as soon as he had had something... Well, as precious as Merlin, he selfishly wanted to keep him all to himself. Or, at least, he had though he had 'had' Merlin. But now, seeing Merlin in his home town, with the people he _actually_ loved, how he was in constant physical contact with one person or the other, Arthur realized that not only was Merlin not his and his alone, not only did Merlin give his love to so many people, not only did Merlin show his affections so much more freely to other people, but Merlin might not have even been Arthur's in the slightest in the first place. Knowing that Merlin very well might have been just another servant, another servant who was, well, a servant and a servant alone... That made Arthur feel so foolish to think that he had ever held any place in Merlin's heart. Arthur hated feeling foolish, to the point of a burning beginning in his chest. It was one of his many faults.

But he would never admit any of this to anyone, let alone himself.

**To be continued. **


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Merlin—_

"I sound like such a girl already," Arthur groaned, pointing at the parchment, as if it was his ink's fault.

Hunith raised a brow at him. "Arthur..."

Arthur, in a very manly fashion, pouted, putting his hands on his cheeks and his elbows on the table.

"You're not going to give it to him, remember?" Hunith pointed out. "We're just trying to figure out the reason. Getting your thoughts down on paper might provide some answers."

Arthur huffed, picking the quill up once again and dipping it in the inkwell. Hunith gave him a kind smile and rose, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks," Arthur grumbled, waiting until she left before he began writing again. Everything that came out of his quill he immediately crossed out, and after repeating this process a minimum of five times he flung the quill down, thinking this whole thing completely ridiculous. So, Merlin never touched him. Big whoop. Why was he so concerned about it?

_Because it's Merlin._

The thought entered his mind without his permission. He scowled a bit, giving in and picking the quill up once more. This may not be as big of a matter as, I don't know, ruling the kingdom, but it was still important. To Arthur. He had to know...

Arthur crumpled up the parchment and started fresh, a small grin gracing his lips as he thought of how to begin...

_Dear idiot,_

_So, what is it? Do I smell bad? Am I repulsive? Do you not like the color of my shirt? Are you afraid of someone seeing? Are you afraid of my father? Or is the thought of hugging me just so awe-inspiring to you that your mind can't handle it and stops working whenever you think about it? Are there some kind of Merlin Hugs coins I'm unaware of? What?_

_Okay, in all seriousness, I'm actually concerned. Well, maybe not 'concerned.' More... Confused. And I guess that you're not going to see this anyways, so I'll just admit it on paper. I'm hurt. Yeah, your big ears and stupid neckerchief somehow have a hold on my 'feelings,' which I don't have. Coming to Ealdor and seeing the way you interact with the people you love, and then thinking of the way you interact with me, maybe my good looks and crown don't have the same control over your 'feelings,' which you obviously do have._

_I'm just left to sit here and wonder what I did to make you so anti-close-proximity around me. I mean, I get that you grew up around the people here, that you have history with them, but don't we have history now? You've probably saved my royal prattishness more times than I care to recount, although I have no idea how, I just have to take your word for it. And you have to know by now that I'd give my life for yours in a heartbeat, and not just because it's my job to protect my subjects. Merlin, with you, it's not a job. It's—_

Arthur paused, his quill hovering over the page, trying to think of the right words, but having to push aside his stupid pride in order to get it down on the paper.

_—instinctual. In my head, it's just a given that I would do anything to keep you safe. You have to know that by now. You have to have seen, right? You have to remember how I drank the poison for you. And I realize, now that your mother has forced me to put my thoughts down on paper, that it's because I can't lose you. You mean too much to me._

Arthur's nose crinkled as he realized what he had just written.

_I'm getting off-point. Merlin, what is it? Is it because I—_

Arthur looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of something.

_—intimidate you? No, it can't be that. You've never hesitated to stand up to me before. Have I actually hurt you before? Do you have scars and bruises because of me?_

Horror burned at the back of Arthur's head. He thought of all the times he had thrown something at Merlin, or punched his arm, or wrestled him to the ground. He should have realized that Merlin wasn't like his knights. Hell, he was barely bigger than a twig.

_Merlin, if I have ever hurt you, I am so sorry._

_But I don't think that's it. It has to be something else, something I've said, something I've done to specifically show I don't want—_

Arthur blinked. That was why... He rose from his seat, looking down at his paper. Of course. It was so simple he almost laughed.

Now, to burn it...

"Writing a speech?"

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, whirling around and holding the letter behind his back. "Your mother said you were out with Will."

"I was. Just got back." His brows rose, watching Arthur. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Arthur, what are you holding behind your back?"

"Nothing. My hand," he held his empty right hand out, then put it back behind it, transferring the letter over and holding up his left. "My other hand."

"I taught you that trick," Merlin said, his lips pulling up into a grin.

Dammit, he was right. "Just... Nothing."

A mischievous glint flashed in Merlin's eyes, and he took a step forwards, setting his supplies he had just gathered down on the counter. He took another step towards Arthur, who held up a cautionary hand.

"Merlin, don't you dare—"

Merlin tried to skirt around Arthur to snag the paper, but the prince ran forwards, holding the letter in front of him. He ran from Merlin's home, nearly knocking Hunith, and her stack of now-clean laundry, over into the grass.

"Arthur?" she said, startled.

"Gotta run!" he said, running down the path with Merlin close behind him.

"Arthur!"

_Well, this is new,_ Arthur thought. He couldn't remember a time when Merlin had been the one chasing him, and not the other way around.

Arthur had speed on his side, but Merlin possessed the home field advantage. He knew Ealdor much better than Arthur did, and eventually, Arthur found himself at a dead end between two homes, and Merlin blocking the only way out. Under different circumstances, Arthur probably would have tackled Merlin to the ground and ran over him, but the new-found fear of hurting him prevented him from doing so. Merlin advanced forwards, and after a minute of struggling that had brought both of them to the ground anyways, he managed to wrestle the letter out of Arthur's hand. That was when Arthur realized he probably could have ripped that. Ripped it into a million shreds, eaten half of them...

Merlin sprang up, his eyes darting over the words on the page, beginning to read it out loud. "Dear idiot—"

"_Merlin_!" Arthur cried, taking Merlin out by his knees, making them both land in a pile of hay.

"Is this for me?" he asked, laughing as he rolled away from Arthur's grabbing hands. "I'm a _dear_ idiot now!"

"Merlin, please—"

But Merlin was gone, and by the time Arthur managed to stand and get out to where he had last seen him, he couldn't find any trace of his manservant. Arthur cursed, punching a wall, which really didn't help his temper. He would have searched high and low for Merlin, but he honestly had no idea where even to start. His face burned with anger and embarrassment as he thought of what Merlin was reading right now, and he wanted to run and hide for the rest of his life, and irrational urge he had always had whenever he felt foolish and had no one else to blame for it.

So he walked to the edge of the woods, sitting on the same log that, though he was unaware of it, Will and Merlin had sat on so long ago to talk about him. He crossed his arms and did the only thing he could do: wait.

It wasn't too long before he felt a small form sit beside him. Arthur swallowed, the embarrassment coming over him again in a refreshed wave.

"I wasn't supposed to read that, was I?" Merlin asked after a time, his voice low and gentle.

Arthur offered zero response.

"Arthur, I didn't know—"

"What, was the fact that I was running to try to hide it from you too subtle?"

"Not that. I didn't know... Well, everything in here," he said, holding the letter up as a visual aid.

"Then you really are an idiot," Arthur grumbled.

They sat in silence again, but not the comfortable ones he was used to around Merlin. An uncomfortable one that reminded him of when he was a child and his father would send him to the solitude of his room to 'think about what he did.'

"I don't suppose you still want that hug?"

"No, I don't think so," Arthur said bitterly, though, if he was being honest, he was wondering what it would be like to hold Merlin's narrow shoulders too his chest, but he immediately reprimanded himself for imagining it.

"It's because you didn't hug me first," Merlin started again, proving Arthur's earlier hypothesis. "I always wait for the other person to hug me first. Otherwise, I don't know if they don't like being touched or not unless I awkwardly ask them. And I wasn't about to ask _you_ that."

Arthur couldn't help but wonder why Merlin had emphasized 'you' like that, and the question must have shown on his face.

"You mean a lot to me, too, Arthur," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. "More than anyone before."

Arthur remained quiet.

What else was Merlin supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell tell Arthur just how many times he had wanted to touch him? Was he supposed to recount every instance? Was he supposed to confess that he had wanted, almost more than anything else, to be able to touch Arthur without any fears of being harshly rejected? Was he supposed to tell Arthur that he was too important to him to ever take that risk? Was he supposed to remind him about that one time when he had thought that Arthur was finally going to hug him, and how Arthur had looked at him like he was some sort of freak? Was he supposed to tell him how much that had _hurt_?

"I didn't ever touch you because I was afraid. I was afraid of how you'd react, I thought I knew that you'd think I was strange, I thought you wouldn't hesitate to put me in my place. I never wanted to risk it. I also saw the way you interact with your knights. I've seen you hug them over and over, where the most I ever received was a pat on the shoulder. I thought, seeing that, you weren't touching me on purpose." He took a breath. "Now I see I was wrong. I wish you would have told me."

Arthur put his face in his hands, rubbing them back and forth, his ring cool on his face. He wanted to disappear, to run away, anything. Anything to get out of Merlin's line of sight. Maybe he could outrun his shame...

He felt a gentle, hesitant, almost frightened hand touch his shoulder. The touch was so light he might have missed it, but soon it pressed down, holding on stronger. He heard Merlin say his name gently, and he swallowed, literally swallowing his pride down as he let his eyes look shyly up at Merlin. His manservant's expression was as gentle as his hand, which now traveled across Arthur's shoulder blades and to the opposite shoulder. Merlin's eyebrows were raised slightly, and he looked like he was ready to run at a moment's notice, but also rooted to his spot at the same time. They both sat still for a moment, before Arthur's left hand rose and fell once before rising again, slowly going about the back of Merlin's waist. In an influx of movement they were in each other's arms, and Arthur didn't have to imagine what Merlin would feel like pressed against his chest anymore.

From that moment forwards, Merlin explored all meanings of the phrase 'inseparable.' It had always been common occurrence to see the prince's arm slung around his manservant's shoulders, but now the manservant's arm came up and wrapped about the prince's waist. In fact, one rarely ever _didn't_ see them in this position now. That became how they always stood whenever they weren't separated by Arthur's training or Merlin's chores. A brief hug had become apart of Arthur's morning routine, right after getting dressed and just before breakfast. Merlin placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder so many times a day that he had stopped looking up to see who it was. After every battle, be it with another kingdom or with the latest magical creature that plagued Camelot, after things died down and Merlin and Arthur were in the privacy of the prince's chambers, and sometimes not, Arthur would only have to read Merlin's expression before knowing what he wanted but would never ask for, and he would never hesitate to give it to him. He'd stride forwards and wrap Merlin in a strong embrace while Merlin clung to him as if he were a lifeline, and he wouldn't let go until Merlin would start breathing normally again. Arthur hadn't realized how terrified Merlin truly was of losing him until that moment.

And when Arthur had seen Merlin on the other end of the battlefield, enemy soldiers dead at his feet, the gold in his irises slowly fading away as their adversary retreated, finally showing his true self to Arthur, Arthur had strode straight for him, sticking his sword in the earth before tugging Merlin roughly to him, his lips making contact with Merlin's forehead, then his temple, before he hugged him tighter and longer than he ever had before, and this time it was Merlin who had to break the embrace from lack of oxygen. Arthur had held Merlin's face between his hands, saying through budding tears in a tight voice, "_I could not be more proud of you_."

Merlin and Arthur had grown very close, in more ways than just one. Every time Arthur felt a part of Merlin's body pressed against his, he could feel another bit of his heart being claimed by his servant.

Sometimes, Merlin touched Arthur so much that the latter had to say that Merlin's touch allowance for the day was up. But, as Arthur had discovered, it was a good problem to have.

**Unless I get a prompt for another chapter that I like, this story is finished. Thank you for your support!**


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